by Hugh Cook
'Plovey, of course,' said Glambrax, kicking him in the shins and twisting free.
'Right! Of course! Well, let's get moving then! Where does he live?'
'That's your problem,' said Glambrax. 'I'm a dwarf, not a street directory. What do you need his home for, anyway? Go to his offices.'
They went — but found all offices of the Regency empty, their interiors gutted by fire. So they would have to seek Plovey at home, wherever that might be.
'Well,' said Sarazin, wearily , 'I suppose we've got all day.'
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
That evening, Sarazin dined with Plovey of the Regency on carp culled from a pool in the courtyard of Plovey's house. They ate by candlelight, consumed a quantity of excellent wine, then got down to business.
'My soul delights in our renewed acquaintance,' said Plovey, dabbing his lips with a napkin. 'But, fair friend, pray tell — what seek you here?'
'Transcripts of the interrogation of Drake Douay,' said Sarazin, urgency harshening his voice as he shook off the languor which had taken possession of him during the meal. 'They're in the palace. I can't get at them. Who has seized the palace?'
'Calm yourself, calm yourself,' said Plovey, mani- festing alarm. The angers harm the digestion. Some more wine? Come, the night is yet young, and you young with it. Strong in your youth, and handsome with it. There.
Drink. No! Not so hasty. This wine has a bouquet worth savouring for its own sake, even before the liquid itself laps the lips.'
Sarazin sipped the glass which Plovey had freshened, then, with scarcely controlled impatience, said: 'The palace. Who holds it?'
'I've not been that way for several days,' said Plovey. 'I've been supervising the defence of my home against the wicked and the witless. You may have seen gangs of such in the streets — not that they'd touch an inpoverished swordsman like yourself when there's richer game more safely touched.'
Plovey was smiling. Smug with secrets. That phrase he had used: the wicked and the witless. It had come from the prophetic book. Did Plovey come by the words by chance? Or what? An interesting question — and one that Sarazin was determined to ask before the night was through. But other things took priority.
'I need the details of Douay's interrogation,' said Sarazin. 'So I need the relevant transcripts. Or, at least, to know what's in them.'
'Ah!' said Plovey. 'So you've turned archivist. My friend, it will be pure pleasure to assist you in scholarship. Yes — could you indulge your greatest admirer with your reasons for this sudden lust for knowledge? What can you get from Douay now that you didn't get before? You got back your bard, didn't you?'
Yes,' said Sarazin, who was, as always, wearing the Lost Bard of Untunchilamon around his neck. Though the thing had been damaged by Douay, it still worked: whenever he pleased he could still listen to the great poet Saba Yavendar reciting his Warsong and Winesong in the High Speech of wizards.
Well then,' said Plovey, 'why bother further with Douay or his history?'
So Sarazin told his long and laborious story.
Concluding thus:
'. . . so I know Drake knew about Doors, and now I have a Door of my own to deal with in the forest of Chenameg. Hence my interest in the interrogation.'
'Why worry about a Door bringing monsters to Chenameg?' said Plovey. 'Sweet silk, the Swarms will conquer all the world soon enough, with or without such a Door.'
So, once more, Sarazin had to explain:
'I see the Door now as a means of escape. If the Swarms truly do conquer, we might be glad of a quick way out of here.'
'That's a thought,' said Plovey.
And, since he had an excellent memory, he told Sarazin what he had learnt from Drake Douay about the mastery of Doors.
'Each Door has a niche in the marble supporting the arch,' said Plovey. 'Place a globe of stars in such a niche. All the Doors of that Circle will then open. Remove the globe and they close. Simple? Simple!'
'My companions who dared the Door saw no such globe,' said Sarazin.
'One sees what one looks for,' said Plovey. 'That, at least, is my experience. I tell you, Sean Sarazin — dare the Door and check the plinth at each station on the Circle. In one niche or another there must be at least one globe of stars, otherwise the Door would not have opened.'
'Describe to me this star-globe,' said Sarazin.
'Green,' said Plovey, toying with a little blue-veined cheese. 'Slippery. Like a frog. Fist-sized yet heavy. Stars glow within. Other than that, dear friend, I know nothing of it. Only that Drake and his comrades had such a globe in Penvash. Some cheese? No? Come! You only live once.'
'All right,' said Sarazin, rat-gnawing on cheese, 'what came of it? The globe, I mean. The one the pirates had.'
'Since pirates are what they are,' answered Plovey, 'naturally they came to blows over it. One of their number then ran off with the treasure, and—'
'Was never seen or heard of again?'
'Precisely. How did you guess?
'It seems to be the story of our times,' said Sarazin.
'Well then,' said Plovey, 'I've made my decisions already. I believe Selzirk doomed for certain. I leave tomorrow for your Door in Chenameg. If you could help me tonight with detailed directions you can be sure of my welcome on a future meeting.'
'My pleasure,' said Sarazin.
'Then, as a token of my appreciation,' said Plovey, 'I give you my house and everything left in it after I quit the place at dawn tomorrow.'
And Plovey smiled. He was utterly calm. Completely unruffled. Why? Because, all his life, he'd known some- thing dreadful was fated for him and his world. He had endured a sense of impending doom ever since child- hood. Now, at last, the worst had happened. Utter and unmitigated disaster. Which had ended the agony of waiting.
Plovey could almost have been called happy.
'So now you know,' said Glambrax, from under the table. 'What now? Do we go with Plovey?'
'No,' said Sarazin. 'We stay here to defend Selzirk.'
You're crazy,' said Glambrax, banging his head against the underside of the table.
TMot crazy,' said Plovey gently. 'Our dear friend has a prophecy to fulfil. Now is Selzirk's greatest hour, therefore he must defend the city against its enemies.'
There was silence in the room but for the thunk . . . pause . . . thunk of Glambrax's head. And the scrabbling of a rat in the panelling. Sarazin's hands strayed from knife to spoon to meatpick.
You . . . you knew,' he said. 'Everything. All along. You knew it all.'
'Oh no, dear friend,' said Plovey. You underestimate yourself. Despite my best efforts, I found out very little, oh, very little indeed. But I knew you read a certain prophecy in a certain book. Oh yes. Come . . . shall we start work on the map? I should be hard put to find this Door without it.'
'Not till you've told me how much you knew,' said Sarazin. 'And how you came to know it.'
'Ah,' said Plovey, 'Lod told me a little.'
'Lod! Lod worked for you?'
'Lod worked for everyone,' said Plovey. 'Farfalla paid him to be an additional bodyguard to young Sean Sarazin. Oh yes, your mother took good care of you, believe me. Lod was sworn to your defence, thanks to your mother's gold.'
'I never knew,' said Sarazin, appalled by his own ignorance.
'Of course,' said Plovey, smiling, 'Lod also worked for Lord Regan. I didn't know it at the time, but I found out later. Oh, many secrets have come out of the woodwork since the Swarms stormed Drangsturm. People now freely tell secrets they would once have carried to their grave even in the teeth of torture.'
'Lod . . . Lod was Lord Regan's spy?'
'Lord Regan's agent. Lord Regan had many such in Selzirk. Of course, Lod also worked for me.'
'He worked for you?'
'He took my gold,' said Plovey, with another smile, 'and, now and again, gave me just a little information. Not enough to kill Sean Sarazin. Oh no, he didn't want you dead. You were very precious to him. Your life guaranteed him a triple
income. But he told me a little, now and then.'
'How about Benthorn?' said Sarazin.
'What do you think?'
'I think he was your creature through and through,' said Sarazin.
'Yet you did business with him.'
'A little, and with great caution,' said Sarazin. 'It did me no harm, did it?'
You survived,' conceded Plovey.
'And Madam Ix? Madam Sosostris? Mistress Turbothot? How did they fit into the scheme of things?'
'The two fortune-tellers played a double game. They worked for Lord Regan and for me as well. Again — neither of them wanted you dead. They told me enough to earn their pay, but not enough to condemn you. But Mistress Turbothot... ah, she was mine. We almost got you, didn't we, darling boy?'
'You were very cunning,' admitted Sarazin. 'But ... if you wanted me dead, why didn't you just send in assas- sins? I know it's not traditional, but surely, under the circumstances . . .'
You were watched, you were guarded, you were a warrior in your own right. You weren't the easiest of targets, darling boy. Besides ... I am an artist. What's more, two can play at that game. Farfalla had told me as much to my face. Now . . . shall we attend to this map?'
Sarazin stared at Plovey. He needed time to absorb what he had been told. A lot of time. So much had happened, so suddenly. He had learnt that Hearst had not made himself ruler of Selzirk, that it was Hearst who had destroyed Drangsturm, that Farfalla had fled, that Lod had been a spy . . .
'Just one more question,' said Sarazin. 'You raided my quarters. Why?'
'Because I was set up, of course,' said Plovey equably. 'I was told I'd find certain proof of conspiracy which would damn you and your mother both. Instead . . . well, you know the rest.'
'There was in fact proof of conspiracy in my quarters,' said Sarazin. 'Not certain proof, but evidence enough to prove dangerous. Somebody took it before you came. Was it Douay? Or who?'
'That I know not,' said Plovey.
'Jaluba was in my quarters when I left to join my mother in conference,' said Sarazin. 'When I came back, she was gone. Where did she go to? Was she the thief? Was she your spy?'
'Jaluba,' said Plovey, tasting the name. He dabbed his mouth with a napkin, then said: 'Ah, I remember. Your whore in Voice. Later, a servant of the Sosostris woman. Am I thinking of the right person?' You are,' said Sarazin.
'Well,' said Plovey, 'I know nothing of her fate. She was certainly never one of my people, I assure you of that. Now, dear Sarazin, your one question has become three. Have you yet another? Or may we settle to the map?'
'Yes,' said Sarazin. 'We'll work on the map.'
Late at night, the map was finally finished. The next day, Plovey left Selzirk, taking with him servants, slaves, women (some in chains, others not), men at arms and half a dozen relatives. He left his house to Sean Sarazin, as he had promised.
And there Sean Sarazin stayed during the days that followed, with only Glambrax for company. The Swarms drew steadily nearer, and Selzirk steadily emptied as more and more of its people fled. Some hardy souls remained, thinking the Swarms would be delayed by the river.
Then came news that the Swarms were crossing over one of the dams to the east, and were building a bridge to span the river to the south. Then nearly all of the people who had stayed in the city ran for their lives.
But a few diehards stayed on, Sarazin and Glambrax among them.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Sarazin polished his ring of invisibility till its silver shone in the sun. He anointed his jade-green dragon-bearing bottle with oil and buffed it up. He sharpened his sword. He did some stretching exercises to free up his muscles.
He was ready for the greatest challenge of his life: to save Selzirk from the Swarms, which were at the gates of the city and were expected to break through those gates before sundown.
'I, Sean Kelebes Sarazin, known to the world of war as Watashi, dedicate this day to the salvation of Selzirk.'
So said Sarazin, who was safe from Glambrax's mockery since the hyperactive dwarf had been locked away in the highest room of Plovey's house.
Stern in resolution, he stepped to the street. And was not overly surprised when Glambrax fell in beside him. He was, neverthelss, curious.
'How did you get out?'
'Out?' said Glambrax. 'Out of what? I got from my mother's womb, I remember, by means of being dragged. Or is it something else you're interested in?'
'Never mind,' said Sarazin. 'Never mind.'
High noon in Selzirk. Sarazin released his ring of invisi- bility from its chain and put it in a pocket where it would be ready for instant use. If his dragons failed to defeat the Swarms, he might need that ring to survive.
The Swarms were without the gates, and those gates were groaning under the onslaught of the monsters. Some of the diehards who had remained in the city had sworn to stand and fight — but now they were turning and running.
'Hold fasti' cried Sarazin. 'I have magic herel Magic with which to save the city, the world.'
But all the people ran, and he was left alone. He was piqued to think there would be no witnesses to his heroism. Would that spoil the prophecy? And, even in the confusion of the moment, he still found time to wonder how his father's death came into it.
—But I decided that already, didn't I? He died in Shin. Didn't he? He was dead enough as far as I was concerned, even though he lived. So that satisfies the prophecy. Doesn't it? Please?
—But what if the prophecy's a lie anyway. Could it be? Do I die here, today?
—Impossible.
For the magical snuff bottle in his left hand was the one the druid had given to him, the one which held a dread of dragons totally obedient to his command.
—But they will live only briefly. That's what the druid said. Will briefly be long enough?
—It must be!
Wood graunched and ruptured. The gates shattered. Through the wreckage came a tunneller, a creature of the Swarms built like a sharp-pointed obelisk. Hundreds of multi-purpose limbs jutted from its body in every direction. Those which happened to be in contact with the ground were presently being used as its feet.
The tunneller quested. Blindly. This way. That.
Sarazin found himself trembling.
—The bottle, man. The bottle!
His fingers stumbled over the polished jade. Grasped. Tugged. The top would not come out!
'Stuck!' he wailed.
A quick-limbed blue ant the size of a calf slipped past the tunneller and advanced on Sarazin, fighting mandibles clicking — 'snick snick snick!' — like castrating scissors from an Oedipal nightmare.
Then the top came — sclop! — out of the bottle. And up roared the dragons, billowing into the air with a rush of fumes and fury, filling the air with the smells of cin- namon and low-grade sulphur. Their wing-clap fury filled the sky. The creatures of the Swarms shrank back, retreating from the dragons.
Yes, there were nine of them.
And nine dragons made an army. It could not be doubted. They were the most dragonish dragons ever seen, fire-winged creatures each a hundred paces from head to tail, and they were his, they were his alone, so strong, so proud, so beautiful that Sarazin wanted to weep and laugh at the same time.
'Well,' said Glambrax, resolutely unimpressed. 'Don't just stand there gaping. Command them.'
The dragons, having flaunted their fury in the skies above, settled to the rooftops. The largest alighted on the battlewall above the shattered gate. Sarazin glanced at the Swarms, which were hesitating in the gateway, then said in a battlefield voice:
'I am Sean Kelebes Sarazin, named in war as Watashi. I stand before you as lord of Selzirk, as prince of the Harvest Plains, as saviour of my people, fulfiller of prophecy, warlord and dragonmaster. Acknowledge my rule!'
The dragon on the battlewall, the largest and most lordly of them all, answered:
'I am the dragon Untunchilamon. Verily, thou art lord of my will. What is thy command, my mas
ter?'
Sarazin, face flushed with the heat of the dragon's breath, said:
'Destroy the Swarms and save Selzirk.'
'To hear is to obey,' said Untunchilamon.
Forthwith, all nine dragons launched themselves into an all-out attack on the Swarms. Roaring, dragons grappled with monsters.
But—
To Sarazin's horror, before his very eyes the dragons were torn apart. Their forms shuddered, smoked, decayed to clouds of sulphurous fire, then disintegrated altogether and were blown away on the breeze.
Tour dragons, you see,' said Glambrax, talking sober sense for once, 'were no more than illusion. Beautiful illusion, extravagant illusion — but illusion for all that.'
'I see,' said Sarazin.
Speaking as one dazed.
He realised now that his dragons had been but a form of fireworks. Most beautiful and intelligent of fireworks, capable of speech, and, perhaps — however briefly — of thought. But fireworks for all that. Beautiful, transitory
— and ultimately useless.
'Now, my master, lord of my will,' said Glambrax. What is your command?' Then, as Sarazin made no reply, the dwarf tugged sharply at his sleeve, and said again, urgently: 'Shall we run?'
Yes,' said Sarazin, as if waking from a dream. Yes, I suppose we must.'
And, as a bevy of blue ants advanced on them, they did indeed run. They sprinted, in fact. Sarazin was fast enough
— but Glambrax was not. One of the ants gained on him, seized him.
'Sarazin!' he squealed.
Sarazin turned, saw, swore. Jammed the ring of invisi- bility on to his finger. Drew his vorpal blade. Strode back and hewed the head from the nearest blue ant. Then grabbed Glambrax and hauled him away. As Sarazin grabbed him, Glambrax too became invisible to the monsters of the Swarms.
